


Nineteen Years Later

by sorrens



Series: Hogwarts Bound [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Human, Crowley babysits dragons pass it on, Epilogue, F/M, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrens/pseuds/sorrens
Summary: In Diagon Alley resides a reluctant bookseller and his dragon trainer husband.Epilogue for the "Hogwarts Bound" Series.





	Nineteen Years Later

There was a secluded room out the back of Flourish and Blotts’ that few wizards had been lucky enough to see.

“Lucky enough” because the transformed storage closet was a veritable museum of old spell books and wizarding tombs. The one that had accumulated the most worth (and most dust) over the years was a ragged first edition of “Hogwarts: A History” that had sat proudly on its own pedestal since the owner had bequeathed it to the small library a decade ago.

The few scholars who got to tour this small corner of history marvelled at the generosity of the donor — surely the book would be worth a small fortune if it had gone to auction.

“You should keep it locked up,” advised one Mr Taylor scrumptiously “Bad sorts around this neighbourhood.”

The shop keeper had waved a hand lazily.

“They know better than to try take it.”

_They_ were the vagrants and the sticky fingered teens that roamed Diagon Alley.

_They_ would sooner break in to Hogwarts to steal a mouldy tea towel because they knew about the book keeper and his ties to the dragons.

A group of cloaked figures stepped inside the shop, causing the owner to jump in fright.

“Official business.” Their leader boomed, flashing his Auror’s badge.

“Of course, of course. Out! Out!” The clerk scrambled to chase the few browsers out of the bookstore. Once he’d locked the door and readjusted his painfully out of date waistcoat the figure dropped their hood and Adam Young grinned back at him. The rest of the Them followed suit. Wensleydale, Brian and Adam had all grown tall and slightly scruffy, but none-the-less handsome as they grew in to young adults. Pepper, whose curly hair was tinted with a dazzling gold on the ends so that it framed her face like a halo would very much appreciate it if she wasn’t described as “pretty”. She was handsome too and not an object of the male-gaze thank-you-very-much.

“We can’t spend all day saving you from customers.” Adam joked, but pulled the shopkeeper in to a warm hug.

“Well, I didn’t ask,” Aziraphale said crisply, but he’d significantly relaxed since all the browsers had been pried away from his shelves.

Now in his early thirties, the man’s face had softened slightly, becoming fuller and creasing into dimples on his cheeks. His eyes were still a piercing blue and managed to convey the joy at seeing his old friends on their own. The combined effect made his whole face light up, an effect which some would describe as “staring at the sun.”

“We came to see if it’s in yet.” Adam bounced up and down in excitement.

“Just this morning.” He beamed and dragged a box out from behind the counter. “She’s included some specially signed copies for yourselves, of course.” He pulled out a thick stack of books bound in rich red leather. The cover was a simple curling script that read “Introduction to Headology: A New Wizarding Science by Anathema Device.”

“It’s beautiful!” Wensleydale gasped, taking the top copy and turning to the cover page where Anathema’s very scholarly looking head shot, face framed by her trademark glasses, regarded the Aurors with curiosity.

“They’re on the booklist for all years at Hogwarts. Poor Newt’s got his work cut out for him wrangling this bunch.”

“Newt’s going to teach it? Then who’s going to be the school’s guidance counsellor?” Pepper wandered over to touch some encyclopaedias, likely to get a rise out of the book seller.

It worked.

“He’s doing both.” He slapped her hand away from the volumes. "He knows Anathema’s work like the back of his hand, he’s the most qualified for the job bar her.”

“Why couldn’t she do it herself?”

“Because she’s so busy with her research… and the wedding planning.”

Pepper snorted derisively and mumbled something to herself.

Aziraphale used the break in the conversation to hurriedly close the blinds to stop potential customers from peering through the store’s windows.

“What brings you four here anyway?”

“Leprechaun gold.” Wensleydale conjured a clipboard. “Doing the rounds in the area, and apparently up at Gringotts too.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Does that mean?”

“Yes, we’ll be checking in with him too.”

“Ah,”

“So… we just need you to count your register, see all the books are in order and nothing’s disappeared.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat sheepishly.

Brian squinted suspiciously at the man, drawing his wand and tapping the ancient till so that it sprung open.

“It’s only 10am!” Aziraphale protested over the empty drawer. “It’s normal to not make any sales in the first few hours of opening.”

Adam scoffed.

“Yeah, and the few hours after that, and all the rest of ‘em. Just you wait.” The auror’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Only a few weeks until they get their booklists and you won’t be able to avoid selling books to students who need them so dearly.”

Aziraphale pouted, but knew the man was right. A storm was coming.

“Well, duty calls! We better head up to the bank.” Pepper closed the till.

“Oh perfect! Could you deliver something for me please?” Aziraphale dashed out to the back room.

“Your personal owl service.” Pepper muttered.

‘Oh no, dear. I daresay I wouldn’t let an owl get their talons anywhere near this one.”

When the friends left with their delivery in hand, Aziraphale peered out the blinds and shrugged — the loathsome customers with their greasy fingers could wait a few minutes whilst he made tea.

⁂

“You can’t go around flashing your badge to see the dragons.” Pepper insisted as they made their way up the cobbled street.

“If you say it’s “official ministry business” they can’t legally object.” Brian pointed out. “That’s a flagrant abuse of power!” The girl blustered. “Besides, he’s such a nerd about it you know he wouldn’t let you leave without saying hello to his little children.”

They arrived in front of the rows and rows of goblins methodically stamping anything within their arm’s reach.

“Your business?” The nearest one asked.

Pepper elbowed Brain out of the way, before he started abusing his ministry privileges.

“We’re here to see Mr. Crowley. Tell his the Them are here.” The goblin gave her an odd look before wandering away grumbling.

“Sally!” The group looked around in surprise at the exclamation.

Crowley was sauntering towards them, dressed like a muggle rockstar — dark sunglasses and all — shoulder length red hair bouncing merrily around like a crackling flame. It took Adam a second to realise that the man was addressing the long black snake that was curled snugly around the auror’s neck. He extracted himself from the coils and handed them over to their owner.

“Had enough scaring the evil book buyers today, have we?”

“Aziraphale said she had to leave because the customers kept calling her “cute” and it was too good for business.”

Crowley snorted.

“Sounds about right, huh sweetie?” He crooned as the snake’s tongue lapped at his cheek.

“Can we meet the dragons?” Brian burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. The bank manager chuckled.

“Of course,”

Bank manager was a lame and stuffy title that Crowley had immediately rejected upon his appointment, much like he once had his first name. He preferred “Dragon Tamer”, though his husband would roll his eyes and mouth “babysitter.” The dragons that patrolled the bank were in less need of training and more so mothering. The bookseller had caught Crowley on more than one occasion singing lullabies to his ferocious charges.

As they were crossing the main hall, a child let out a shriek. Always on guard, the Them whipped out their wands instantly, looking for signs of danger.

“Oh, I think this one’s for me,” Crowley said fondly, as he saw a toddler in her mother’s arms, pointing a chubby finger at the gold lines that snaked up Crowley’s neck.

He stepped nearer so the kid could poke his neck, cackling with delight. Her mother was similarly entranced, eyes travelling up the man’s lean form to rest on the intricate scars blossoming up his neck.

“What happened there?” She asked.

“Met an angel,” Crowley shrugged. It was his go to answer these days, vague enough that people didn’t press any further and also strange enough that they might wonder whether he was unstable.

“Well, it really is quite fetching.” The witch stepped closer, ghosting hands over Crowley’s collarbones with a hunger in her eyes.

“I said I met an angel, yeah?” Crowley sniffed. “Yeah, I married him too.” He waved his ring finger in front of the woman, and she drew back, not even bothering to conceal her disappointment.

He caught up with the Them at the large double doors to the vaults. Suddenly, they seemed fifteen years younger, muggle children scrambling around a forest concocting games of magic and adventure. Now, they were Aurors, even in spite of the mischief they managed at school. The four that stood with bated breath as Crowley pulled out the key to the dragon’s quarters were quite the same as the kids in Tadfield, for they’d never lost wonder at the world that was unfolding around them.

“Toby!” Brian shrieked at the miniature Welsh Green that greeted them at the door, sniffing them apprehensively.

There was a tap on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Hello brother, I’d like to talk with you.”

Crowley quickly ushered his friends in to the room.

“Take care of them for me for a sec.” He whispered. It wasn’t quite clear whether he intended the Them to take care of the dragons or vice versa, nonetheless he closed the door behind them.

“Did you just feed your friends to your pets?” Beez squinted.

“Nah,” Crowley waved a hand lazily. “They’re mostly harmless.”

They raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Beez had been around and about since their graduation. They loved to stoke the rumours that they were a puppet master of the current minister, or international spy, or something equally intimidating. Beez had revealed to their brother what their job really entailed, on the condition that he didn’t disclose that his oldest sibling was an international peace advisor to the ministry. In the years at Hogwarts, and following on, they’d been Crowley’s tenuous link to the rest of the Crowley clan. Hastur had faded in to oblivion (a euphemism for “incarcerated in Azkaban”) and Crowley’s parents had never really tried to make contact, doubly so since he’d married Aziraphale. But Beez was a helpful messenger when necessary, and so Crowley waited expectantly for a bland and unaffected message from his estranged parents.

It did not come.

Instead, Beez was smiling and it was terrible and it was odd and Crowley’s brain tried damn hard to reject what he was seeing.

“Why’s your face doing the thing?” He gestured.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m engaged!”

Crowley shook his head in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My boyfriend proposed and I said yes.” They squeaked. There were some layers to unpack. Crowley knew that they had had a boyfriend for some time now, but had never been given the impression that it was serious. What’s more, he’d never met the guy.

“Congratulations.” He managed to choke out. “When do I get to meet the poor bastard? There’ll be a wedding I assume?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m hear about. To give you the news and…” she fumbled in her pocket for a second “An invitation,”

Crowley unravelled the parchment and his stomach dipped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He couldn’t help himself, reading the script that crawled across the page.

Beez pouted.

“If you’re not going to be nice, don’t come.”

“But, but… your boyfriend is Gabriel?”

Surely Aziraphale didn’t know that his brother was marrying Crowley’s oldest sibling.

As if reading his mind, Beez nodded slowly.

“Gabriel is at the bookshop now, extending the olive branch, as it were, to his brother.”

“To my husband.” Crowley clarified. He liked to think Aziraphale deserved a bit more than a brother who’d abandoned him for a decade and a bit, only to show up at his wedding for the free butterbeer.

“Your husband,” They smiled. Beez had attended the wedding with much enthusiasm, gotten a little bit too drunk at the reception and suddenly he was realising where the couple had probably met…

“Mother f—“

⁂

He would always take a long lunch break, meeting Aziraphale at whatever cafe he deemed appropriate (there was only one, the staff at Cafe Charisma knew the couple very well by now). Today he took the invitation and a look of bemusement, which seemed to be exactly what the bookseller brought also.

“Did you know?” Aziraphale pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“What about our siblings eloping?”

“It’s hardly eloping, they met a year ago.”

“It’s eloping because they obviously don’t know each other well enough to know that they’re both massive pains in the arse and should not inflict themselves on a potential spouse.”

“Hmm, birds of a feather. At least the rest of the world is safe.” Aziraphale chuckled.

They took a seat outside, not even bothering to glance at the menus.

“Why do you wear those silly things?” Aziraphale whined, pouting at Crowley’s sunglasses.

“I wear them angel because your smile is so blinding I need them.” He said jokingly.

“But I like your eyes.”

Crowley huffed and took off the glasses.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He snapped.

“Like what?” Aziraphale replied innocently.

“Looking at me like I hung the god-dammed stars.”

Aziraphale grabbed his partner’s hand as it rested on the table.

“I mean I would,” Crowley continued. “For you, if I could, but I don’t think logistically speaking—“

“Oh shut up,” he leaned forward and pulled the redhead in for a gentle kiss.

Nightingales are not native to Diagon Alley, but an elderly Screech owl who’d made an intrepid escape from the nearby emporium did his best at singing the closing notes of our tale.

It was terrible.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone was satisfied with how things turned out. I've dealt these idiots enough angst so I hereby decree they retired from narrative conflict after their incident with Peeves and have lived hopelessly in love for the rest of their days.
> 
> Psst! Headology is stolen from Mr Pratchett Himself and is basically Psychology so Hogwarts now have a counsellor (Newt) and an awareness of mental health thanks to Anathema. Bless our queen.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at [@sorrens](https://sorrens.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please feel free to browse my other Good Omens fics. I've written a few AUs, some angst, some crack, some questionable use of internet humour, basically ineffable husbands in many flavours.


End file.
